


Annalise Anonymous 2.0

by AudreyV



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Coming Untouched, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, F/F, Femslash, First Time, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Infidelity, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Character of Color, Mutual Pining, Pining, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24703351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyV/pseuds/AudreyV
Summary: This probably isn't disaster, but even if it is, Bonnie understands disaster.
Relationships: Bonnie Winterbottom/Tegan Price
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38
Collections: The First Annual Femslash Kink Exchange 2020





	Annalise Anonymous 2.0

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlassesOfJustice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesOfJustice/gifts).



"She makes me feel alive." Tegan's gaze goes soft, distant. Bonnie looks down into her glass, sloshing the bourbon back and forth. 

"Why do you think I stayed all this time?" 

It is the truth, and at one point, she wouldn't have said it, but Bonnie's a different person now. Tegan's eyes dart over to her, then away again. She takes a swig of her gin.

"This is why I usually drink alone," she grumbles.

Bonnie knows a hint when she hears one. She stands and begins to gather her things, but a moment later she feels Tegan's hand on her wrist. 

"Did I tell you to go?" Tegan asks, low, eyes anywhere but on Bonnie's. 

A beat. Bonnie shifts from one foot to the other, feeling the exhaustion in the balls of her feet. Right now she could still drive home, but she doesn't need to rush there. She doesn't want to, not to look Frank in the eye and lie by omission. 

She sits back down. Tegan gestures toward her with the bottle of bourbon and Bonnie extends her glass for a top-off. 

"If you usually drink alone, why do you have bourbon?" Bonnie asks. 

"Oh this? This is Emmett's," Tegan says casually, breaking into a peal of laughter when Bonnie's sip turns into a cough. "Kidding. I'm not a heathen, I have more than straight gin, for the off-chance I'll entertain someone."

"You do that often? Entertain someone?"

"Well, the last person I was going to have a drink with had a heart attack and died. And before that… Michaela brought a bottle of gin. Sucking up when she was an intern, before...." Tegan gestures vaguely.

"Sounds like Michaela," Bonnie agreed. Tegan kicks her feet up next to Bonnie's and they lapse into a silence that is, if not familiar, at least companionable. 

“So Annalise... she’s bisexual, right?”

“I don’t know," Bonnie shrugs. "I don’t think she knows.”

“But Eve Rothlow—“

“Yeah. They were together a long time ago.” Bonnie lets her eyes droop. The bourbon is doing its job, relaxing her, dulling the ache of the outside world so she can exist. Quieting the thrum of doom in her brain. 

“Anybody more recently? Lots of women are bi until they pass the bar.”

“Probably.” 

“What about you?”

Bonnie's body stiffens at the unexpected change in the conversation's direction, but she keeps her voice neutral.

“What about me?”

“Did you and Annalise ever have a thing?”

“No.” Bonnie cocks her head to the side and holds Tegan's gaze. 

“It’s a wonder you’re a good lawyer, because you’re a shitty liar,” Tegan says finally, almost jovially. Tegan's tone catches Bonnie off-guard and she finds herself smiling.

“Fine. Once. A long time ago.”

“Like, back when she was married long ago?” 

“Yeah.” Bonnie sighs. “It’s not what you think, though.”

“Disaster threesome, you fucked her husband for a chance at fucking her," Tegan declares, as confidently as if she'd been there in the room. 

Bonnie smiles wryly. 

“Okay, it’s exactly what you think,” she admits. 

“Old story, Bonnie. We’ve all been there." Tegan leans closer, dropping her voice conspiratorially. "Honestly, if it was an option I might close my eyes and think of England if it gave me a chance to show Annalise a good time.”

“I thought you were gay.”

“Oh, I’m gay. I haven’t let a man touch me in two decades but sometimes sacrifices must be made in pursuit of a larger goal.”

“You're that into her?” 

"I think I'm in love with her."

Bonnie studies Tegan's face, noting the look of surprise, as if this news is a shock for both of them. 

"That's too bad," Bonnie says.

"What makes you say that?"

"What do you think?" Bonnie holds Tegan's gaze. Tegan starts laughing again-- a sound Bonnie finds herself starting to enjoy-- and grabs for the gin. 

"Well, at least you understand my plight," Tegan says as she pours a generous amount into her glass. "And you're much better company than Nate would be."

"That's a very low bar," Bonnie says dryly. Tegan giggles. 

"You're funny when you're drunk."

"No, I'm funny when YOU'RE drunk. Which makes me feel like I should catch up," she adds, extending her glass. "You know, Nate and I did this once or twice..."

"Did what?"

"Drank about Annalise." Bonnie chuckles. "We called it Annalise Anonymous."

"Well, cheers to Annalise Anonymous 2.0," Tegan says, clanking their glasses together.

"A marked improvement," Bonnie agrees. 

An hour later, they've moved to the couch, and Bonnie has taken off her shoes. Now they're both laughing, but she can't quite remember about what. The world bobs and weaves, and when she glances at the now-almost-empty bourbon bottle she knows why. 

Tegan is looking at her with such warmth. It feels like they are old friends instead of… whatever they are. 

Colleagues. 

Unfortunate souls bound by other people's bad decisions.

Two idiots in love with the same woman.

"What?" Tegan asks and Bonnie realizes she'd been staring. 

The decision almost makes itself. Before Bonnie can talk herself out of it-- before she really thinks about it at all-- she feels her body moving, one fluid motion that starts with her putting her glass down on the side table and ends with her in Tegan's lap. She shifts herself, settles her knees on either side of Tegan's thighs, and bends down to bring their lips together. 

She's not sure what she's expecting when she does it. Maybe she's not expecting anything. Maybe that''s because she knows expectations and hopes and trying to predict the future are all different kinds of traps and her life hasn't allowed for that kind of foresight for far too long. 

She definitely isn't prepared for Tegan's fingers in her hair, just a little too rough. She doesn't expect the way Tegan takes control of the moment, drawing her deeper into the kiss, guiding her like an expert rider might control a skittish horse, with the barest movements. It's gentle, but there's a firmness behind it that Bonnie immediately trusts. (That's ironic, given how wary she's been of Tegan until very recently, but she knows Tegan is on Annalise's side, which means they are on the same side, even if wanting Annalise should put them in conflict with each other.) 

Bonnie doesn't like gin but she likes how it tastes on Tegan's mouth. She likes the way Tegan kisses, slow and deep and more intense than she was prepared for. She likes that Tegan feels solid and real and just far enough removed from their mess. 

Tegan's fingers trail up the back of Bonnie's neck and Bonnie feels her body stiffen even though she wishes it wouldn't. The touch stops, everything stops, and then Tegan's lips aren't touching hers anymore. Bonnie wants to say something to get them back on track but she's drunk and feeling too much to do it. The words won't obey her and it makes her want to throw a fit, whining like a child until she gets her way. (Bonnie has never, not once, truly gotten her way. The universe isn't set up for that. Even when she thinks she's won, her victories have always come with an unexpected price.) 

"You're wound very tight, even for a lawyer," Tegan says mildly. 

Bonnie blinks down at her but Tegan doesn't continue, just leaves the space there. 

"I am," Bonnie manages, noticing that Tegan hasn't tried to move her, isn't looking to escape. She's just sitting there, looking at her with bleary eyes that seem curious but not concerned.

"Here's the part where I'm supposed to say, 'We shouldn't do this,'" Tegan says finally. "'Let me call you a cab.'" 

"Is that an offer or just what you're supposed to say?"

"The latter." Tegan's face softens. "What I want to say is, 'Let me call us a cab.'" 

Bonnie considers this. She thinks about Frank at home, waiting for her, ignorant of both his origins and what she's doing right now. 

She wonders what Annalise would think of this. 

She reaches for her phone and with a few quick taps the matter is settled. 

"Your place?" she confirms. Tegan starts to give her the address, but Bonnie stops her. "I have it already."

"How? Why?" 

"It's always been my job to know things," Bonnie says. She climbs out of Tegan's lap as gracefully as she can manage and plops next to her on the couch. "Get your shoes on. The Lyft will be here in five minutes."

\---

The ride is short. Bonnie starts to overthink, but Tegan's hand slides up her thigh, almost like Tegan can hear her brain starting to whir. It's enough to interrupt the cycle. 

This probably isn't disaster, but even if it is, Bonnie understands disaster. 

Everything about Tegan's condo feels expensive, down to the sweet-spicy-warm smell that hits Bonnie when she steps across the threshold. She's pleased to see it's also inviting, full of unexpected personal touches like a Loteria-inspired framed print of two women embracing as they gaze at the crescent moon. There's more color in the space than Bonnie expected, mostly pops of red and purple. Her eyes dart from a sculptural garnet glass vase on a side table to another large piece of art, this one a large, old-looking sword with a wavy blade, mounted horizontally on the wall and draped with dark purple velvet. 

Tegan drops her bag by the entry table and shrugs out of her coat, letting it drop to the floor. That surprises Bonnie. 

She wonders what else might surprise her tonight. 

"Are you coming?" Tegan asks. "Or are you just going to stand in my entryway all night?"

Bonnie lets her coat fall to the oak floor. 

\---

Once Bonnie's made the decision to fuck someone, she prefers that events proceed uninterrupted. She doesn't want time to think about it, to over analyze, to go places in her mind that threaten to snarl and swallow her. 

Tegan moves too slowly for Bonnie's taste. Now that the choice has been made, Bonnie wants to just shuck her clothes off without ceremony, but Tegan seems to want to enjoy the build up. Bonnie treats sex like it's linear; it becomes clear almost immediately that Tegan doesn't. 

"I can tell you've slept with too many men who didn't have a clue what they were doing," Tegan murmurs against the side of Bonnie's throat after the third time she's corralled Bonnie's roaming, insistent hands. Bonnie's whole body stiffens, but Tegan doesn't let go. 

"Most of them knew exactly what they were doing." The words come out of Bonnie's mouth before she can stop them. She cringes at the hard edge in her tone and hopes that Tegan didn't clock it, but Tegan pulls away enough to look into her face and it's obvious she did. (Tegan's hands stay on Bonnie's hips, firm and deliberate, and Bonnie's grateful for it.) 

"I mean the ones you chose," Tegan says evenly. "Although I know that can go sideways too." 

"Do you?" Bonnie asks.

"If you're asking, no, that's not my particular flavor of personal trauma," Tegan says, unflustered. "But I'm a woman who sleeps with women. I'm used to navigating it." 

"How did you know?" Bonnie asks. ('Did Annalise tell you?' is what she wants to ask, but she doesn't.) 

"How did you know where I live?" Tegan retorts with an arch of her eyebrow. "You're not the only one who does her research. I don't know the gory details and I don't need to, but I know enough. It's why you and Annalise are so close, right?"

"What IS your particular flavor of trauma?" Bonnie asks and Tegan laughs, hard enough that Bonnie can feel her body moving in her arms. 

"You want to be my therapist or do you want me to fuck you? Those things are mutually exclusive."

"Neither," Bonnie replies and Tegan looks at her with obvious confusion on her face. "I want to fuck you."

Tegan looks taken aback. She blinks several times, the surprise apparent on her face. (Bonnie loves that, loves putting people off-balance, loves seeing perfectly put-together boss bitch Tegan a little off-kilter.) 

"Well, you can certainly try," Tegan says finally.

Bonnie hears the challenge, and she's up for it. 

\---

It's more linear, after Bonnie says that. Tegan relaxes into being seduced more easily than Bonnie expects. She lets Bonnie strip her down and stops trying to keep Bonnie from rushing things. (For Bonnie's part, she concentrates on slowing down, although her impulse is still to careen forward at top speed.)

She's shocked at how pliable Tegan is, how easily she lets Bonnie lead things. She doesn't want to compare it to Annalise, but Annalise's ghost hovers over the moment. They wouldn't be here if it weren't for how they both feel about Annalise. (How strange, Bonnie thinks, to fuck about someone else, but later she'll realize it's one of the least strange things about their present reality.)

It had been years since Annalise and Bonnie's one impulsive night, long enough for Bonnie to almost erase Sam's involvement from her memory. Annalise, though, Annalise she tried to memorize every inch of her, every throaty moan. She can still remember Annalise's nails making crescent moons on her shoulders. She can conjure the sensation of being grasped and pulled and claimed from deep in her mind. 

She looks down at Tegan, who is naked and gazing up at her with half-closed eyes. Tegan is entirely different. Tegan's hands are soft, gentle, although there's nothing tentative about the way she touches Bonnie. Her hands slide up and down Bonnie's waist, veering down to grasp at Bonnie's hips. Her fingers won't leave marks. (Bonnie isn't sure if she's disappointed or grateful; in the end, it is both.)

Bonnie pushes Tegan back onto the overstuffed pillows and crawls down her body. It has been a long time since she did this, but she's always been good at it. (She's observant. It's her purpose. FIguring out if a witness is telling the truth and finding the things that make a woman scream are less different than one might think.) 

"Fuck," Tegan breathes when Bonnie mouths at her hip. Tegan's hands bury themselves in Bonnie's hair, just barely pushing down. The pressure lasts for mere seconds before Tegan pulls away. 

"Sorry," Tegan mumbles and Bonnie chuckles and rakes her nails up Tegan's inner thigh. 

"Now who's rushing?" Bonnie asks. She moves lower, exhales against warm brown skin. She's struck by the contrast of her pale hand on Tegan's hip. She tries not to think about her hand on Annalise's hip like this, but her brain is an unruly child, and it drags her down that road until she bends to taste Tegan. 

Bonnie finds a rhythm. She balances teasing with direct movements, pressure and fluttering and slow strokes. Tegan is responsive, far more willing to show her appreciation and pleasure than Bonnie's previous female partners. (Age does that, Bonnie thinks, makes women willing to be seen enjoying sex. She has certainly enjoyed sex in her 30s far more than she did in her 20s.) 

"Is this okay?" Bonnie asks quietly, her fingers gently stroking Tegan's entrance. 

"Okay is an understatement," Tegan growls. (It's hot. It's so hot, Bonnie's heart thuds hard in her chest and she feels a gush of wetness between her thighs.) 

Bonnie lets her eyes drift closed as she slides inside Tegan. Tegan makes a needy sound when Bonnie pulls out, then whimpers when she pushes inside again. Bonnie crooks her fingers and Tegan groans. 

"I'm close," Tegan says later, and Bonnie feels a swell of pride. She keeps her movements steady, even, pushing Tegan higher. 

"If you want," Bonnie says in a low voice, "you can pretend I'm her."

"Fuck," Tegan repeats. "That's so fucked up, you know that?" 

"Yeah," Bonnie says. "But I won't judge you."

Tegan reaches down and pulls Bonnie up her body, kisses her hard and fast. (Bonnie wonders if Tegan likes tasting herself on Bonnie's lips.)

"Maybe I like that you're you," Tegan says between kisses. She guides Bonnie's hand back down and angles her hips. Bonnie takes the hint and pushes inside her again. 

"That's a nice thought, but I think it's bullshit," Bonnie challenges. Her hand keeps moving. (Tegan's so slick and wet and hot and fucking her feels so good and wrong at the same time.)

"Maybe I like that you're hers," Tegan whispers in Bonnie's ear, and Bonnie's brain short-circuits. She's barely let Tegan touch her, her underwear are still on, but suddenly she's so close too, hovering on the edge of an orgasm she absolutely wasn't expecting. 

She pulls away and looks down into Tegan's face. Tegan looks up at her, steady and shameless, and smirks. 

"How pissed off do you think Annalise would be, if she caught me playing with one of her toys?" Tegan purrs and that does it. Bonnie cries out as she tumbles over, her body shuddering as she tries to maintain her rhythm as she fucks Tegan. Her clit throbs so hard it's almost painful. The peak goes on for so long as she concentrates as hard as she can on getting Tegan there with her. The shivers of pleasure are still loud and coursing through her when Tegan grabs her and kisses her, groaning her own release into Bonnie's mouth. 

\---

"Christ, that was good," Tegan mumbles. Bonnie's collapsed on top of her and their bodies are hot and sticky every place they touch. 

Bonnie thinks "good" is an understatement. 

She has the stray thought that she's sobering up. A moment later, as if she'd said it out loud, Tegan untangles their limbs and pads to the other room. Bonnie rolls over onto her back and breathes in the smell of Tegan's fancy sheets. Tegan returns with a bottle in each hand. Bonnie watches as she saunters back to the bed like a woman who knows exactly how gorgeous she is, and how much power she has in her curving, tan limbs. 

"You okay?" Tegan asks as she extends a very nice bottle of bourbon to Bonnie. 

"Yeah," Bonnie responds. "You?"

"I'm great," Tegan says as she takes a swig from her bottle of gin. She looks Bonnie up and down and the corners of her mouth tug up in a sly smirk.

"What?"

"I'm just thinking about how jealous Annalise would be of us."

Bonnie's heart flutters in her chest.

"So jealous," she agrees in a gravelly voice. "Is that offer to fuck me still on the table?"

"I thought you'd never ask." 


End file.
